small steps
by kittytrypsin
Summary: On an away mission, Trip and T'Pol are slowly becoming friends. My first attempt at fanfiction. Please read/review. Story complete.


ONE  
  
Captain Jonathon Archer tried very hard, but not entirely successfully, to stifle a laugh at the expense of his Chief Engineer, Charles "Trip" Tucker III. Trip had just returned from an away mission in shuttlepod one, in the company of Sub-Commander T'Pol. They were totally professional, but poles apart in temperament. T'Pol was Vulcan, totally emotionless, clipped efficiency personified. Trip was a southerner, all charm, drawl and winning smile, except when it came to the Sub-Commander! They tolerated each other, but as far as friendship was concerned, Archer couldn't see that ever developing.  
  
"I tol' her I was taking pictures of the planet for your records, but would she wait? Oh no, miss high-and-mighty took off without me an' I had to risk life an' limb in the transporter. Honest, Cap'n, you need to talk to her about her temper!"  
  
"Calm down, Trip. There's no harm done, you didn't materialise wrongly 'I don't think' and at least it lets us know the glitches are being ironed out of the transporter."  
  
"I'd just as soon ya ironed the glitches out on somebody else, like her, maybe!"  
  
Archer sighed. These complaints from one officer against the other were monotonously regular in occurrence. He wished with all his heart that he could find some way to help his first officer and his best friend to reach mutual understanding. In an attempt to do this, he very often threw them together on away missions, hoping time together, alone, would work some miracle. He recalled reading an old joke,  
  
'The impossible, we can do at once. Miracles take a little longer.'  
  
He'd just have to give it more time.  
  
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Hoshi Sato, Communications officer aboard the Enterprise, was struggling to decipher an incoming message. Her young brow was furrowed in concentration. The call was coming out on an ancient waveband, crackling with static, which didn't make a translation any easier.  
  
"Do you have it yet, Ensign?" T'Pol asked, sharply.  
  
Travis Mayweather, the young helmsman, looked at his fellow bridge ensign in sympathy. Hoshi often felt that the Vulcan looked down on her abilities, making her feel even more insecure when the Captain wasn't on the bridge.  
  
"Nearly there, Sub-Commander, just a few more words for he Universal Translator to be able to kick in."  
  
Hoshi was a talented multi-linguist, in spite of her insecurities, but in times of stress, such as an incoming distress call, she relied on the UT. This might not be a distress call, but ten chances to one it was. The familiar swish of the door from the Captain's ready room told her he was now on the bridge, together with Commander Tucker.  
  
"Hoshi?"  
  
"Almost got it, Captain...yes, here we go."  
  
Words began to translate themselves into English on the padd in her hand. She carried it across to Archer's chair, who studied it intently.  
  
"Do we have visual?"  
  
"Not yet, we've only just learned to talk to each other. I'll ask them now."  
  
She got busy sending greetings and questions back to the planet. More signals came bouncing back, then the main view screen burst into life showing a grey, dimly lit room with a grey, poorly clad male in the centre of the picture.  
  
"My name is First Minister Voltec. I send greetings from my people and the planet of Altair. You are the first to answer our call. From where have you travelled?"  
  
"I'm Jonathon Archer, Captain of the earth star ship Enterprise. We're on a mission of exploration. How may we help?"  
  
"Our planet has a hostile environment, forcing us many years ago to build shelter domes around our major areas of population. Computers and generators control our environmental controls, hydroponics, basically everything. Unfortunately they are starting to degrade rapidly and we are at an almost critical point. Our distress calls have been going out continuously for almost 5 months, and even that necessary use of our resources has had a seriously detrimental effect on us. We had almost given up hope when your hail came through like a message from the gods. Please say you can help."  
  
"Send us the landing co-ordinates and a list of what you need. We'll be with you as soon as possible." Turning to Trip and T'Pol, Archer grinned. "Okay people, let's go play Superman. Malcolm, you have the bridge."  
  
The armoury officer, Lieutenant Reed, nodded in acknowledgement.  
  
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Archer took the controls of the shuttlepod, himself. He didn't often get the opportunity, what with all the other flyboys liking to take the helm. His companions were checking over the equipment they'd gathered together. There was little conversation between them and he sighed inwardly. This was shaping up to be yet another strained Trip/T'Pol head-to-head.  
  
"Landing site up ahead, folks. The weather is pretty awful, so I'd grab a seat and hang on."  
  
With some difficulty, Archer brought the 'pod down unscathed, landing with a vigorous bump. They donned their Environmental suits, shared out the equipment between them, and opened the 'pod's access door. Once exposed to the environment, they could all fully understand why the Altairians had needed to move indoors. Wind blew in great angry swirls, uprooting anything vegetable that stood in its way. Derelict buildings lay littered about, mostly without windows or roofs. The ground was rocky, all signs of soil washed away by the continuously falling rain. T'Pol, ever the diligent Science Officer, was scanning the area, even though it was a struggle simply to remain upright. Archer marvelled at her dedication to Science. Trip tapped him on the shoulder and spoke into the inbuilt communicator.  
  
"Guess I'll pass on the photo's this time, Cap'n!"  
  
CHAPTER TWO  
  
With some difficulty, they made their way towards the first and largest of the domes coming into view. The door opened silently and they stepped into a tranquil haven. Removing the helmets of their EV suits they greeted Voltec. Archer introduced his officers, and Voltec, in turn, introduced the councillors who were with him.  
  
"Our thanks, Captain. You are all most welcome. Please accept our meagre hospitality. We have prepared a meal to welcome you."  
  
He led the way into the room they'd seen on the viewer, but in reality it wasn't quite as grey as it had seemed. The walls were beige, the lighting soft and subdued, probably to conserve energy. Voltec waved them to seats and proudly displayed the refreshments set before them. Trip, who'd had several unfortunate experiences with alien cuisine, regarded the food with suspicion. T'Pol leaned towards him with some satisfaction.  
  
"You once told me you shouldn't judge a species by the food they eat. To refuse, Commander, is likely to offend."  
  
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"These are our main generators, Commander Tucker. I'm afraid they're not in the best of conditions."  
  
Voltec had brought Trip to the heart of the main dome. The engineer's eyes gleamed with excitement at the opportunity to tinker with alien technology. The skilled craftsman in him recoiled at the sorry state of the generators, but that would just make the repairs all the more challenging, and ultimately rewarding.  
  
"Yeah, no kiddin'. Guess I'll just get right in there. Tell Cap'n Archer I'll be some time!"  
  
With that, he rolled up the sleeves of his jumpsuit and dove into the heart of the machinery. Voltec watched with a very interesting expression crossing his face.  
  
"I'll leave you to your task, then, Commander."  
  
Trip was engrossed, and merely waved a distracted hand.  
  
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T'Pol tapped the keyboard, entering data into the computer console.  
  
"This is a simple matter to repair. It will take some time, but should present no difficulties. The technology is antiquated, but adequate. I will commence immediately."  
  
Archer and Voltec nodded and moved away.  
  
"I'll return to Enterprise briefly, Minister Voltec. We were on our way to Indus with medical supplies, and need to apprise them of our delay."  
  
Taking the shuttlepod back to the ship, he entered the bridge.  
  
"Hoshi, are we in range to talk to Indus yet?"  
  
"Sorry Captain, not yet."  
  
"Okay, keep trying. Travis, how long would it take to reach Centauri at warp 4.5?"  
  
The helmsman made a few calculations on a padd.  
  
"72 hours, Captain. Sixty, if we pushed the engines to warp 5."  
  
"Hmm, 3 days there and 3 back. If we left now, Trip and T'Pol could finish their repairs. I'll talk it over with them and see how they feel. Hoshi, get them for me, put it through to my ready room."  
  
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"Certainly, Captain. That is the most logical decision to make. Commander Tucker and I will be quite happy to remain here for the 6 days. My repairs will not require that length of time, but I may be able to offer some assistance to the Commander when my work is completed."  
  
"Thanks, T'Pol. We'll be back before you've even noticed we've gone," Archer replied. "I'll tell Trip, myself."  
  
T'Pol's eyebrow rose in response to the Captain's comment. She failed to understand the human need to speak in riddles.  
  
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"O-ki-doke, Cap'n. I've plenty ta keep me going here. These generators had nearly packed in. It mightn't take all of the 6 days, but we'll chill out. I might even be nice to the queen o' logic. Just don't let them blow ma engines. I'd rather ya took 7 days to get back than find ma warp coil in pieces."  
  
"Thanks, Trip. Like I said to T'Pol, you won't even have time to miss us, although Enterprise is sure going to be quiet for the next few days. Oh, and try to stay out of trouble, Trip. You're like a magnet to the stuff!"  
  
Archer returned to the bridge. "Travis, maintain the course for Indus, warp 4.5. Without our Chief Engineer, I don't want to overload the engines; 7 days will suit just fine. Hoshi, keep an ear out for anything from Centauri or Altair. Keep me posted."  
  
"Aye, Captain," the ensigns replied.  
  
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T'Pol's work on the computers was progressing well. She thought about their enforced stay on Altair, and decided to pace herself more efficiently. To complete her work too quickly would mean having too much time with little or nothing to do. Although she'd promised the Captain that she would assist Commander Tucker, she felt certain that the engineer would reject her offer, preferring to work on the machinery alone. She had noticed a certain territorialism in humans, before, and Commander Tucker was definitely territorial. Not for the first time did she sigh inwardly at the mentality of the humans she had spent the last seven months with. Captain Archer was a kind man, always putting the well being of others before him, and often going out of his way to do so. Their present situation was a case in point, as was the mission to Indus. T'Pol felt certain that the captain would rarely turn down a request for help, but she also felt sure that he needed to exercise more caution. The Vulcans had discovered that not all alien races had peaceful intentions.  
  
"Sub-Commander T'Pol, I've prepared some lunch for you and Commander Tucker." Voltec announced quietly. T'Pol was momentarily startled to discover that she'd been distracted enough for Voltec to arrive unnoticed.  
  
"Thank you, First Minister. That will be acceptable. I apologise again that the captain had to leave, and that the Commander and I are an extra burden on your depleted resources."  
  
"Please, the apology is unnecessary. We are only too happy to have you here, doing such wonderful repairs. Our home is yours for as long as you like."  
  
T'Pol thought his remark somewhat cryptic, but decided against pursuing it. As she followed Voltec to the reception room, she saw Trip entering at the same time. He was about to make an impudent remark, just for the fun of riling her, when he remembered that he'd promised to be nice.  
  
"Hi, T'Pol, how goes your repairs?"  
  
Her eyebrow rose in that maddening way that always managed to annoy Trip. She was non-plussed by his comment. No sarcasm? No impudence? Once again she found herself confused by this most complex of humans. He was perhaps the most difficult to fathom. She was in no doubt of his engineering skills, but his mood swings were beyond logic. At times he was full of what humans regarded as impish fun, dragging the captain out of whatever foul temper he happened to be in. At other times he was morose, barking at his engineering team to get optimum efficiency from them. She appreciated that it was not only Captain Archer who looked to Commander Tucker to lift the atmosphere in times of stress. He always seemed to have a quip to dispel the tension, and although she rarely showed emotion, at times he managed even to amuse her, not that she would ever tell him.  
  
"The repairs will be completed very soon, thank you. Perhaps I may be of assistance to you?"  
  
"Yeah, ok, just as long as ya don't tell me how to do my job. Thanks."  
  
xxxxxxxxxx  
  
Voltec was meeting with the Altairian council to discuss the ongoing repairs. Their guests had been with them for 3 days now. All of the computer repairs were complete, and very soon the generators would be functional again too.  
  
"Minister, we're going to have to approach them with our request very soon. Enterprise will be back in less than 72 hours, maybe sooner. If we leave it too late." Councillor Trag spoke for his fellow councillors.  
  
"I know, I will speak with them today, but I'm sure none of us is in any doubt as to their response. However, the fact remains, that for our continued existence, we can't let these people leave."  
  
CHAPTER THREE  
  
Trip and T'Pol were finishing a diagnostics run on the newly repaired equipment. The generators hummed with precision, and T'Pol acknowledged her colleague's skill.  
  
"Congratulations, Commander. You have performed most efficiently with the poor materials you had to hand."  
  
"Most efficiently? Makes me sound like some blasted robot. Still, I guess we worked well together.most efficiently, even. Makes a pleasant change from naggin' each other ta death, don't ya think? No pickin' holes in ma work, an' such!"  
  
"Indeed. Your work was faultless, I saw no need to "pick holes"'.  
  
Trip looked at her through his lashes. Grinning, he nudged her arm. "C'mon, we've earned a rest. Fancy a look around outside?"  
  
"The elements are hardly conducive towards taking a stroll, Commander."  
  
"We're off duty, T'Pol. Try calling me 'Trip', the name won't bite ya. Anyway, with our EV suits, we'll be ok. Unless you're chicken."  
  
"Mr. Tucker, (he rolled his eyes in despair) if I understand your inference correctly, then of course I'm not 'chicken'. However, I fail to see why you would wish to explore such an inhospitable environment. Your actions are most illogical."  
  
"There ya are again with the logic. Don't ya ever get tired of things havin' ta be logical? I'm curious, T'Pol, ain't you? What makes this planet's weather so very bad, an' how come they needed us to do their repairs? Where's their own repair crew?"  
  
Once again that eyebrow rose. "Those thoughts had also occurred to me, Commander, but what answers do you expect to find outside?"  
  
"Well, ya ain't gonna find out 'til ya look! C'mon."  
  
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Councillor Trag watched the two Enterprise crewmembers leave the dome, dressed in their EV suits. They were carrying their scanners, and had the air of those looking for answers. He sought out Voltec.  
  
"Have you spoken to them yet?"  
  
"No, they've been busy finishing the repairs. I was going to approach them over the evening meal. Why?"  
  
"They've gone out, with scanning equipment. If they find out about the 'accident', we'll have a problem."  
  
Voltec sighed. Things were being taken out of his hands.  
  
"Alright, gather some men together, and follow them. Be sure not to let them see you. We'll just have to hope that they don't make any discoveries."  
  
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"Commander, stop. This is futile. We will not find anything of use in these conditions."  
  
Trip struggled on ahead, as if he hadn't heard her.  
  
"Mr. Tucker! To proceed is both illogical and highly dangerous. Visibility is down to 13%. Should our navigation equipment fail, we would be unable to locate the dome again."  
  
"Keep your shirt on, T'Pol. Just a few more minutes, then we'll turn and follow the bread back home."  
  
Trip was flashing his torchlight into the gloom, fighting to stay upright in the crosswinds. T'Pol, prudently, had tucked herself into relative shelter behind him, whilst continuing to scan. At least she was protected from the brushwood and debris that continuously blew against Trip. Glancing down at a sudden change in the readings of her scanner, she was about to call the Commander's attention to her findings, when she noticed that he was no longer in front of her: he was no longer in view!  
  
"Commander? Commander Tucker, where are you?"  
  
Only silence greeted her. Cautiously, she continued moving forward, but was still totally unprepared when the ground disappeared beneath her feet. Scrambling to catch anything to break her fall, she felt sheer sides of rock. As she tumbled, she thought she saw a faint glimpse of the colour of the Commander's EV suit somewhere below her. Ground rushed up to her, bruisingly, as she braced herself for the impact and the onslaught of pain. The fall was jarringly broken as she rolled into a firm but yielding object. She was badly winded, and a little disoriented for a few moments, but was relieved to discover only minor aches and pains. Her ankle and wrist throbbed gently, but she had sustained no debilitating injuries. Remembering the glimpsed flash of yellow, she thought of her colleague.  
  
"Commander, can you hear me?"  
  
Again, she got no response. Looking around her to determine where she'd landed, and what had broken her fall, she realised she had found Commander Tucker. She had been lying across his body, and he wasn't moving. Struggling onto her knees, she reached for her flashlight, only to shake it in disgust when discovering it was broken. Searching around the Commander, she found his, and surprisingly, it was working. She inspected the way he had landed, and knew before she scanned him, that his left leg was bent at an unnatural angle. The scan confirmed that his femur was shattered; he had several broken ribs and was unconscious from a head injury. On closer inspection, she discovered that the visor on his EV suit was smashed, and his face was masked in blood. T'Pol shone the torch around their immediate surroundings. They had fallen into a vast crater, filled partially with water, but the ground dipped and rose unevenly. They were extremely fortunate that they were on a ledge, some twelve feet above the water level. Had they fallen any further, it was likely that neither of them would have survived. As it was, T'Pol couldn't see how they were going to make it out of the crater unaided. Instinctively, she tried to hail Enterprise before realising they would still be out of range. Sighing, she realised their only hope of survival was to wait for them to be missed from the dome and a search party organised. Carefully straightening the Commander's fractured leg, she gently rolled him towards her, onto his side, and sat beside him to shield his unprotected face from the wind and rain. A soft moan escaped from him as she rolled him over, but there were no other signs of returning consciousness. She hadn't anything with which to wipe away the blood from his face, and as the wind continued to buffet them, she raised his unresisting head onto her lap, and bent over him. Raising her scanner again, she remembered the surprising readings she'd noticed just before their fall.  
  
CHAPTER FOUR  
  
Trag and his party followed their visitors at a discreet distance. They didn't want to be spotted, but had to be careful not to lose their quarry in the poor visibility. Not for the first time did they wonder why their visitors wanted to leave the sanctuary of the dome to explore the harsh terrain. Did they suspect something?  
  
"What do you think they're up to?" Galax shouted into his ear.  
  
"When we find them, I'll be sure to ask them." Trag answered.  
  
The party had stopped whilst they talked, and when they started up again, Galax pointed to the empty horizon.  
  
"They're gone, vanished!"  
  
"I'm afraid they've found what they were looking for." Trag noted, grimly. "Come on."  
  
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The journey to Indus had progressed smoothly. First contact was a cordial affair, pleasantries had been exchanged as well as the medical supplies, and Archer and crew had been invited to sample the planet's hospitality and lovely weather. Captain Archer, Doctor Phlox and Lieutenant Reed had stayed for a few hours, just long enough for common courtesy. They explained about their missing colleagues and promised to return at a more convenient time.  
  
"Nice to know that not every alien race we meet objects to us being out here." Archer noted in his log. He patted his pet beagle's head affectionately as he closed the computer link.  
  
"C'mon Porthos, let's take a stroll before I'm due back on the bridge. Only two more days before we're back at Altair. Sure can't wait to have Trip and T'Pol on board again. I'm sure they've been at each other's throats the entire time."  
  
Porthos cocked his head at the sound of his master's voice, not understanding the words, but certainly picking up the right signals from his body language that could only mean "walkies".  
  
Later, on the bridge, Archer spoke to Hoshi.  
  
"Hail the away team and let them know we're 48 hours away."  
  
"Aye, sir, but we might still be out of range. I'll let you know."  
  
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T'Pol estimated that she had been cradling the Commander's head now for approximately 15 minutes. He still hadn't shown any signs of rousing, and she allowed herself to feel some concern for their predicament. Shining the torch upwards again to reassess the situation, she noticed other flashes of light around the top of the crater. Relief swept over her as she saw a rope being thrown down into the crater and a figure starting to lower itself towards her. Gingerly, the man made his way onto the ledge and crossed to kneel beside her.  
  
"Sub-Commander T'Pol, are you injured?" It was Galax.  
  
"I am quite well, thank you, and only minor bruising. However, I am concerned for Commander Tucker. He has serious injuries and needs urgent medical attention. May I assume you have some means of getting him out of here?"  
  
Galax pondered his reply. He could see that the Commander was in a bad way.  
  
"We have little need for such measures, as our people don't usually venture outside. However, I believe we have a litter and harness somewhere. Why don't I stay here with the Commander, you can go back and attend to your bruises, and our rescuers can get the equipment for your friend."  
  
"Thank you, but I will remain with the Commander. Should he regain consciousness, he will be agitated and confused. I may be able to pacify him. Perhaps you would arrange for the necessary equipment to be acquired as a matter of some urgency."  
  
Galax moved back to the rope, and with the aid of the party at the top of the crater, ascended quickly. He relayed his findings to Trag.  
  
"This is bad. If Commander Tucker should die, we'll be right back where we started. Go back and stay with them, offer whatever assistance you can to T'Pol, and we'll be back as soon as possible."  
  
T'Pol watched with interest as the figure returned to her. Galax filled her in, and they sat in quiet contemplation as they waited for the rescue to begin.  
  
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"I'm sorry, Captain, but I've been unable to contact either of the away team. I'll keep on trying. The Altairian communicators are so antiquated that it'll probably be another day before we can raise them."  
  
Hoshi knew Captain Archer was anxious to have his crew complete again, and she realised that she had missed the other two as well. Commander Tucker was always telling amusing stories, usually at the most inappropriate times, making her have to stifle a giggle just as the Captain would look her way. He often chose to ignore her childish laugh, realising that the ship's 'joker' was doing his bit for crew morale. And she was most surprised to discover how much she missed the Sub-Commander. Even though T'Pol constantly seemed to be on her back, Hoshi really admired the Vulcan, trying as hard to impress her as she did for the Captain. Yes, she'd be really glad when everybody was back where they were meant to be. A small voice in her head told her that maybe the away team should have been able to be contacted, but, shrugging, she told her small voice to be quiet.  
  
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Malcolm Reed was a worried man. But then, he spent 16 hours each day as a worried man. As chief tactical/armoury officer, and therefore in charge of security on board Enterprise, he felt out of control when he couldn't account for the well-being of every crew member. Of course, there was nothing to imply that Trip and T'Pol were in any danger, but still.  
  
"Captain, did First Minister Voltec give any reason for the Altairian weather being so bad?"  
  
"No, Malcolm, he didn't, and actually I forgot to ask him. We were more concerned with finding out what repairs would be needed, and what with the trip to Centauri, it went out of my head. When we get back, you can ask him yourself. Although, by now, I'm pretty sure T'Pol will have found that out." "And what about weaponry? Did you notice any?"  
  
"Malcolm!" Archer sighed, tiredly. "We'd just arrived to carry out the repairs they so desperately needed. They were unlikely to greet us brandishing weapons, now were they?"  
  
Archer knew Malcolm was obsessed with his armoury. He took as much pride in it as Trip took in his engineering department.  
  
"Sorry, sir, I suppose not. I'll just be glad when they're back. I've missed the arguments." Malcolm smiled at Archer. He knew the Captain was more than a little anxious, too.  
  
"Travis, let's push this baby up to warp 5 for a while, give the engines a nice little warm-up to welcome our friends back home." Archer slapped the helmsman on the shoulder. Travis let out a breath that he hadn't realised he'd been holding.  
  
"YES SIR!  
  
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Trip Tucker slowly became aware of soft voices, very near him. He couldn't understand why they insisted in talking whilst he was sleeping. Did they not know he was so tired? He needed his rest, otherwise he was the first to admit that he got cranky. He'd had to warn Malcolm of that, once, on a mission, when Malcolm'd insisted on yacking while he'd been trying to sleep. Sighing, he realised he was just going to have to tell them to be quiet. It was then that he realised, in a panic, that he couldn't open his eyes. Struggling to raise his hands to his face, he was suddenly assaulted by the worst pain he'd ever had the misfortune to experience. It started in his head, drove down through his torso, and out through the soles of his feet, taking all of his breath with it. He gasped like a drowning man, trying to suck air into his tortured lungs.  
  
"Lie still, Commander. You have been injured, and movement will only exacerbate the pain." He thought he recognised the voice, but wasn't sure.  
  
"T'Pol, that you?" he gasped.  
  
"Indeed, Commander. Now lie as still as you are able. Help is on its way."  
  
"What happen'd?"  
  
"In the poor visibility, we fell into a crater. You have sustained some fractures and a litter is being brought to get you out."  
  
"What about you? Ya hurtin'?" Talking was becoming more difficult for him with every word. His chest seemed to be on fire, and although he could understand T'Pol's words, his head seemed to be filled with cotton wool.  
  
"I am fine, thank you. Vulcans are in possession of greater physical strength than humans, and I am able to control my mild pain with mind control."  
  
"Yeah? Pity ya couldn't give me some of that."  
  
T'Pol gazed at his face, contorted with pain, and found herself wishing the same. Even though Vulcans had learned to suppress their emotions, it didn't mean they were devoid of them. It annoyed her to watch another's pain, and she was contemplating rendering him unconscious with a nerve pinch, when Galax tugged her arm.  
  
"They're back. Hopefully this won't take too long, and then the Commander can be looked after."  
  
They watched as first another rope was lowered into the crater, and a man descended to the ledge. On a third rope, a long basket was lowered until the man was able to untie it. Galax moved across to assist. They carried the litter across to T'Pol.  
  
"We have to lift Commander Tucker into this, then attach the basket to the ropes. The people on the surface will then pull him up. I'm afraid it's going to be a bumpy ride."  
  
Trip didn't like the sound of that, much. Bumps were absolutely the last thing he wanted right now. A scream rose to his teeth and he clamped them shut to prevent its escape as the two men lifted him into the basket. The pain was the most excruciating thing he'd ever known, and he wished he could black out into sweet, sweet unconsciousness.  
  
"Commander, try to breathe slowly and deeply. It will help you to control your pain." T'Pol urged. She could see he was in great distress, and that he wasn't responding. "Trip," she tried.  
  
Trip's eyes opened, clouded with pain.  
  
"Ya ever tried deep breathing with busted ribs?"  
  
T'Pol took pity on him and touched his neck, bringing sweet release as he blacked out.  
  
CHAPTER FIVE  
  
The rescue up the side of the crater was much easier once the injured man was no longer in pain. T'Pol was pulled up on one of the ropes, the stretcher on the other two, and eventually everyone was back on the surface. Trag motioned for them all to make haste back towards the dome, out of the elements. Once inside, they carried Trip's basket to a small room with a single bed in it. Setting the basket on the floor, they gently lifted the injured man onto the bed.  
  
"What medical facilities do you have, First Minister? If you can show me what materials you have, I will attempt to render first aid to the Commander."  
  
"Our supplies are limited, Sub-Commander. We don't have any medical personnel. Injuries are few and far between, and usually minor. But come, I'll show you what we have." Voltec led T'Pol deeper into the heart of the main dome, and into a room, which contained very little in the way of recognisable medical equipment. T'Pol sighed as she gathered together simple bandages and a few splints.  
  
"Do you have any analgesics?"  
  
"No, I'm most dreadfully sorry. As you can see, our planet's resources are very basic. We have only what we need for existence, not allowing for accidents. It's why we don't going exploring outside. We can't afford to have any of our people injure themselves."  
  
"These will have to suffice until Enterprise returns. The Commander will be in considerable pain, but there is little we can do about that. I will attempt to alleviate his pain myself."  
  
T'Pol turned and made her way back to where they'd left Trip. She'd never attempted a mind-meld with a human before. She wasn't even certain that she could control his pain, but she knew she would have to try. He was lying on the cot, his breath shallow and his skin glistening with sweat. She crossed to the sink in the corner and rinsed a cloth under the running water. Crossing to squat beside him, she laid the cloth gently across his forehead. She would wait for him to regain consciousness before attempting the meld. In the meantime, she set about cutting him out of his EV suit and partly out of his inner clothing in order to be able to apply the splints to his leg. Each time she rolled him, he moaned deep within himself. She bit her lip and resolved to continue her task. It would be much worse if he were to awaken before she'd cut away the clothing.  
  
Once the splints were applied to the fractured leg, she wrapped the remaining bandages tightly around his ribs. He was strong, and his strength would help him to fight the pain and injury. When her tasks were complete, T'Pol allowed herself a momentary weakness of her own. Her injuries were very minor, but a few cuts required bathing. She had stripped out of her own suit and now bathed the cuts with water. The mild sprains to her wrist and ankle weren't worth thinking about, so she sat on a chair, waiting for Commander Tucker to come round. The door opened and Galax entered with some broth. She hadn't realised how hungry she was until then, and the broth smelled very appealing. So intent was she in partaking of the meal, she failed to notice Galax gathering up the discarded EV suits and removing them from the room.  
  
xxxxxxxxxx  
  
The Altairian council was in full swing. Voltec was on his feet, attempting to quieten some of the raised voices.  
  
"Friends, I know this action is highly questionable, and at any other time, if the circumstances were any different, we would not be making these decisions. But the situation is so dire, the circumstances beyond our control, that we have no other choice. These people came to us to help, and with their help we will survive for a while longer. But for how long? When will the next piece of equipment fail, with no one here able to repair it? If we let Tucker and T'Pol leave, we're signing our own death warrants. It is not acceptable."  
  
Heads nodded around the room. Voltec sighed. It had been a difficult meeting, with strong opposition to their actions, but common sense had prevailed, even amongst the most opposed.  
  
"When Enterprise returns, we simply prevent them from contacting their crew members. We'll explain about the accident, but embellish it slightly. After the ship has left them here, they'll settle to their new life. What option will they have?"  
  
CHAPTER SIX  
  
Enterprise had made up time travelling at warp 5. Archer smiled. Trip would've been proud of the way his engineering team kept a watchful eye on the warp coil. Occasionally, they'd asked for the speed to be reduced to 4.5, and after the briefest of respites, allowed warp 5 again. They wanted their Commander back as much as anyone.  
  
"We're in hailing distance of the planet, sir, but I've been trying to contact the away team for over 1 hour now, with no luck." Hoshi reported.  
  
"Could be all sorts of reasons for them not to hear our hail. Let's not panic just yet. Try Minister Voltec, instead. Maybe he knows where T'Pol and Trip are."  
  
The main screen sparkled into life as contact with Altair was re- established. Voltec greeted Archer solemnly.  
  
"Minister, good to see you again. I hope my people have been behaving themselves? We can't seem to raise them on their communicators. I wondered if you knew where they might be?"  
  
"Captain, it is good to see you again, too. I only wish it was under happier circumstances. There was a terrible accident. Your people travelled away from the safety of the domes, and sustained fatal injuries. I'm so sorry.they're both dead."  
  
Gasps were heard all over the bridge. Hoshi shook her head at ignoring her small voice. Travis cursed at the fact they'd had to go to Indus at all. Malcolm blamed himself for..well, everything, really, and Captain Archer dropped into his chair like a stone.  
  
"Dead? How? What exactly happened to them?" he stammered.  
  
"Visibility was very poor when they set out, perhaps foolishly, although I don't wish to speak ill of the dead. They fell into a crater, and their injuries were more than our simple facilities could sustain. I'm so very sorry for you loss. They were such skilled people."  
  
Jonathan Archer's mind was reeling with the news he'd been given. T'Pol and Trip, both dead! He thought back to the couple of hours he'd stayed on Indus. If he'd refused to stop at all, maybe they would have been back in time to prevent this! His best friend of nine years was dead because he'd not wanted to offend a total stranger! And T'Pol.he'd become quite fond of her in the 7 months they'd served together. This was going to be so hard for the crew to come to terms with. He looked at the shocked faces of the bridge crew, and realised they were looking to him for guidance. He cleared his throat.  
  
"I'd like to recover their remains, if you don't mind. We'll give them a decent burial, pay our last respects. I'll have a shuttle with my medical officer on board, with you shortly."  
  
"Captain, I regret that won't be possible. You see, the accident happened several days ago, and we don't have storage for, um, corpses. Our practice is to initiate cremation as soon after death as possible. Their remains are.no more!"  
  
xxxxxxxxxx  
  
Porthos looked at his master with canine understanding. He didn't know what the matter was, but if he was reading the situation correctly, his master needed a lick right about now. He jumped onto the human's knee and licked his cheek. It was wet, oddly. Archer's hand patted the dog's head, and he sighed.  
  
"Good boy, but not right now, eh? I've a few difficult calls to make."  
  
He opened the link back to earth, and spoke to Admiral Forrest. He explained about the accident, the loss of his two dear friends, and yes, realised he counted T'Pol as a friend. He asked Forrest to pass on his deepest regrets to the Vulcan High Command, and then started into the most difficult communication he'd ever had to make.  
  
"Mrs. Tucker? How are you, ma'am?"  
  
"Jonathon. How lovely to speak to you. How's things out there? I hope that boy of ours is staying out of trouble!" the accent was slightly softer than Trip's, but it was similar enough to bring Archer close to breaking.  
  
"Ma'am, I'm so very sorry. I'm afraid this is the hardest thing I've ever had to do. It's about Trip."  
  
"What's happened? It's bad, isn't it, John? Is he hurt? Will he be coming home?"  
  
"I'm so sorry, " Archer repeated. "He won't be coming home. There was an accident on an alien planet.he was killed.they've cremated the bodies.I'm so dreadfully sorry!"  
  
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Trip Tucker's nightmare was dragging on and on. First, he was in so much pain, it beggared belief. Then T'Pol had messed about with his head, trying, according to her, to help him control his pain. If he got out of this mess, he never wanted to experience a mind-meld ever again. His concussion had made him dizzy and disoriented before she got to interfering! Now, he could imagine he heard her voice calling him. If he remembered rightly, she'd even called him 'Trip'. He smiled, in spite of himself. It must have been the mind-meld that's caused her to relax. Mixing high-minded Vulcan ideals with good ol' country reasoning was sure to mess up the most disciplined of minds. And when he vaguely recalled lying in the crater, waiting for rescue, he could have sworn he had his head in her lap!  
  
"Commander, open your eyes.Trip!"  
  
Trip's eyes shot open at that. She did call him 'Trip'.  
  
"Well now, Princess. That wasn't so hard, was it?"  
  
T'Pol's eyebrow shot up.  
  
'Oh, yeah! There she goes with that eyebrow thing, again.'  
  
"Ok, so we're back in the dome, right? An' ya tried messin' with ma brains, but I still feel like I've been vaporised! What's next?"  
  
"I'm afraid we're unable to communicate with the Captain. Enterprise has most certainly returned by now, but our communicators have been removed. I've attempted to get an explanation from First Minister Voltec, but he refuses to speak with me."  
  
"What? Why would he hold us incommunicado? That don't make sense."  
  
"All I am able to ascertain is that we are being held in this room, cut off from everyone except Galax, who brings sustenance."  
  
"How long've I been out?"  
  
"After we brought you back, you were unconscious for approximately one hour. Following the attempted mind-meld, you were catatonic for a further hour. I must admit I also found the experience...unsettling. Your mind is a very chaotic place, Commander."  
  
"Trip, remember. Ya've tried it once, an' it didn't hurt."  
  
She thought better of telling him it had been more than once. There were more pressing matters than bolstering his ego.  
  
"We must find some way of getting out of here and making contact with the Captain. Voltec is most likely telling the Captain a falsehood to deceive him."  
  
"Yeah, well, you go on your own, T'Pol, I'd only slow ya down. Get away and call the cavalry, an' I'll jus' wait for ya here."  
  
CHAPTER SEVEN  
  
Malcolm rang the signal outside Captain Archer's ready room.  
  
"This had better be important!" the voice on the other side spoke. Bracing himself, Malcolm entered the room. He noted the pallor of his Captain's face, a certain redness around the eyes, and realised that most of the crew looked the same. It had been less than 6 hours since Voltec had delivered the news. The mess hall was filled with dazed people, simply sitting in a stupor, neither eating nor talking. Even Doctor Phlox, normally so jovial, was quiet, for a Denobulan. Malcolm cleared his throat.  
  
"Sir, call me suspicious if you will, but something about this whole situation just doesn't add up."  
  
"What are you getting at, Lieutenant?"  
  
Malcolm noted the use of his rank rather than his Christian name. He trod even more carefully.  
  
"I've been giving the Altairian situation some careful consideration. Is it too much of a happy coincidence that their problems were resolved by our arrival and the expertise of Commander Tucker and the Sub-Commander? And is it then too much of a wild idea that maybe, just maybe, they'd try to hold onto the very people who'd brought them back from the brink of disaster?"  
  
"I don't want to accept that they're dead, either, but why would Voltec lie?"  
  
"Why don't we take the shuttle down and ask a few questions."  
  
xxxxxxxxxx  
  
T'Pol was lying on the ground, moaning softly. Trip lay unconscious on the cot. The door opened to admit Galax, carrying more food. He gasped in horror when he saw T'Pol's prostrate figure. Quickly, he set the food on the floor and knelt beside the Vulcan. Just as quickly, she sat upright and pinched his neck, catching him as he fell to the ground. Trip opened his eyes.  
  
"I wish ya'd teach me how ta do that, T'Pol."  
  
"You do not have the physiology required, Commander."  
  
She crossed to the cot and pulled him into a sitting position. He grimaced in pain, catching his breath.  
  
"I tol' ya to go on your own. Get away an' get the Cap'n."  
  
"I don't take orders from you, Mr. Tucker. We're staying together."  
  
She pulled him gently to his sound leg, levering her shoulder under his arm to balance him on the other side. Like a pair of drunks, they staggered out into the hallway.  
  
"Where now?" Trip gasped. This was most definitely not fun.  
  
"If we can put some distance between ourselves and that room, you can rest in a more secure location while I attempt to locate a communicator."  
  
xxxxxxxxxx  
  
Shuttlepod One was being given a thorough pre-flight check by Travis Mayweather. The helmsman was very glad to have something to do that would occupy his mind, allowing temporary respite from the shared grief of the entire ship's complement. Not surprisingly however, he felt it more keenly when on the bridge, where T'Pol should have been at her Science station and Commander Tucker frequenting between his post on the bridge and engineering. The Captain hadn't explained anything about this away mission, but Travis knew how devastated Captain Archer was at the loss of his officers. He surmised that perhaps the Captain wanted simply to pay his respects by visiting Altair one more time before moving on. If that was the case, Travis felt he'd like to be a part of that, too. Jonathon Archer arrived quietly at the shuttle's hatch.  
  
"Everything ready, Travis?" he asked, gently.  
  
"Aye, sir. Um, are you going down alone?"  
  
"No, Malcolm's got a few queries he'd like settled. And I'm taking a few other security men, purely as a precaution. We might fire a volley of shots off, you know, just to mark the spot." His voice trailed off, not wanting to say any more. Travis nodded in understanding, and even that small movement caused John to almost lose it. It reminded him so much of how Trip used to respond to him - a nod and that quick smile that he was never going to see again. Travis left his Captain to his thoughts. Shortly after, Malcolm arrived with a heavily armed security detail. They piled into the shuttle and Malcolm was about to close the hatch when a cheery voice called out.  
  
"One moment, Lieutenant, if you please." Dr. Phlox scuttled through the hatch, somewhat breathlessly.  
  
Malcolm studied the Denobulan curiously, and then turned to John for an explanation.  
  
"Maybe I'm clutching at straws, Malcolm, but on the outside chance of them being held against their will, and alive..."  
  
"Understood, sir. A wise decision."  
  
Archer addressed the Doctor. "When we land, you stay in the 'pod. I hope, in a perverse way, that we will need your services. Malcolm, you know what I want you to do."  
  
CHAPTER EIGHT  
  
T'Pol and Trip were making very slow progress. The effort of forward motion was making Trip dizzy and nauseous. T'Pol's right shoulder was under his left arm, and his arm was draped across her shoulder so that she could grab his wrist. Unfortunately, his fractured ribs were on that same side, so overall, the effect was dynamite.  
  
"I've gotta rest, T'Pol. I'm sorry for bein' a wimp, but if I don't lie down, I'm gonna fall down." he gasped, his face contorted in pain. T'Pol gripped his wrist and waist firmly.  
  
"Hold on, Commander. We need to find a place of concealment."  
  
Turning the next corner, T'Pol was surprised to find that they'd made their way to the generator room. Easing Trip against the wall, she silently opened the door. Inside the room, the generators continued to hum productively, but there was no one attending them. She stepped outside again and caught Trip just as he was sliding to the ground. His face was ashen and beaded in sweat, and he was barely conscious.  
  
"Commander.Trip, come on. You can rest now."  
  
Helping him to stagger inside, she almost had to drag him behind some equipment. There wasn't anything for him to lie on except the ground. Lowering him as gently as she could, she shook his shoulder.  
  
"I will endeavour to contact the ship, Commander. Rest here until I return."  
  
In response, Trip simply grunted. Stepping carefully out into the corridor again, T'Pol slipped away quietly. Looking down at her attire, a distinctive cat suit, she was aware that she was conspicuously different from any of the Altairian females. Her thoughts turned to acquiring some clothing to help her blend in. moving cautiously towards one of the dwelling zones of the dome, she set about 'borrowing' a hooded cloak, which effectively hid her uniform, and her distinctive ears.  
  
xxxxxxxxxx  
  
John landed the shuttlepod as close to the main dome as possible.  
  
"Malcolm, I'll get Voltec to lead me out to where.well, you know.and when he's away, you can have a look around. Those clothes you're wearing should shield you from curious glances, but try not to shoot anyone until we have a reason to."  
  
"Aye, sir, but if I'm right."  
  
"I know, here's hoping. Ok Doc, sit tight."  
  
"I'll be right here, Captain. Good luck in your venture."  
  
Archer and the security detail were already wearing their EV suits, and stepped out of the shuttle. John had decided against notifying the Altairian council of their return, but he wasn't surprised to see Voltec himself meeting them as they arrived at the dome.  
  
"Captain Archer, this is un-expected. Did I not explain that there wasn't anything for you to do here?"  
  
Voltec looked rattled, John decided, which he hoped was a good sign.  
  
"Sorry to drop in unannounced, Minister, but it's an old earth custom to give fallen comrades a military salute. I've come with an armed detail to fire a volley of shots at the site of the.accident. I'd appreciate your showing us the way."  
  
"Captain, I don't mean to speak against your customs, but our hostile environment has already lost you two crewmen. Is it wise to risk more lives?"  
  
"I'm prepared to take the risk. Lead on!" John spoke brusquely. He'd had enough of tact and diplomacy, now he desperately wanted answers, and he needed the chance for Malcolm to go snooping. Voltec struggled with his decision, but he realised that to refuse to lead this Captain on his quest would only invite suspicion, and the last thing he wanted was for Archer to remain any longer than absolutely necessary.  
  
"Very well, but against my better judgement, we should set out immediately."  
  
xxxxxxxxxx  
  
Malcolm watched the party heading out. He presumed that was Minister Voltec in the lead, together with the Enterprise crew and several other Altairians. He wasn't concerned for the Captain's safety: the security detail wasn't along just for a military salute. He turned to his companion.  
  
"Okay, Doctor, wish me good hunting."  
  
"Naturally, I do, Lieutenant, and I hope to hear from you soon."  
  
Malcolm checked his phase pistol for the tenth time before stepping out of the shuttle. He'd been warned about the weather conditions, but was almost blown off his feet at first. He was very glad the shuttle had landed so close to the dome. He wouldn't have liked to be outside for too long without an EV suit. No one paid him any attention as he entered the dome. He'd concealed his pistol in the folds of his cloak - the wardrobe department on Enterprise had come up with a reasonable facsimile of Altairian clothing. Striding out with a look of confidence that he didn't feel, he began to explore his surroundings. The entrance to this main dome was like the hub of a half-circle, with corridors leading away like wheel spokes. None of the corridors displayed any signposts, but as Malcolm reasoned to himself, the natives didn't need them, and he wouldn't be able to read them anyway. He tried to think of where Trip and T'Pol might be held, if they were being held at all. 'More than likely being made to work' he presumed, 'so let's try communications and generators for a start.' He didn't really have any idea where to start, so he decided to be methodical and start at the farthest right and work through them, no matter how long it would take.  
  
xxxxxxxxxx  
  
John was finding the trek arduous, and shook his head in dismay at what had driven T'Pol and Trip to make this journey voluntarily. It had to have been Trip's idea - he'd never got tired of exploring, everything was an adventure. John shook his head to clear the tears that threatened to spill. After they'd been trudging over the uneven ground for about 40minutes, Voltec suddenly stopped and held up his hand. John removed his helmet in order to hear what was being said.  
  
"This is it, Captain. I'm afraid in the poor visibility they didn't have a chance. The fall killed them instantly. I'm so very sorry."  
  
They stood on the edge of the vast crater and John shivered as he looked down into the watery depths. He remained silent for a few moments of quiet remembrance, and then signalled to the security detail. They raised their phase rifles to their shoulders and fired the salute.  
  
"What would have created such a huge crater, Minister? Do you have volcanoes on Altair?"  
  
"I'm not familiar with that word. However, these.craters are an unfortunate result of our weather. Erosion occurs due to the constant wind and rain, and where there is insufficient underlying rock, these vast pits occur. I feel dreadfully responsible for not having sufficiently warned your people against venturing out alone. Visibility changes so dramatically and so rapidly, that they wouldn't have stood a chance. And speaking of visibility, I really do recommend that we turn back now."  
  
John took a final look into the crater before nodding. He couldn't justify any further time wasting and just hoped that Malcolm was making good use of whatever time they'd given him.  
  
CHAPTER NINE  
  
T'Pol had finally retraced her steps to the computer terminals she had repaired. She didn't know if that was where the communications centre would be housed, but reckoned it was as good a place to start as anywhere. In retrospect, she realised that one more than one occasion she had enquired about the Altairian communications. The original request for help had come out on a very ancient system. However, no one had enlightened her about it. After their rescue from the crater, Voltec had very politely, but pointedly refused them their own communicators and weapons, locking them away from all contact. T'Pol could think of no logical explanation for the council's actions, but the fact that she and the Commander had been shown so very little of the dome suddenly seemed premeditated. Arriving at her target, T'Pol cautiously opened the door. Inside, the room was generously staffed, unlike in the generator room. She raised an eyebrow. 'Why do they have no-one maintaining the generators which are so vital to their survival, and was there no-one who could have assisted Commander Tucker during his repairs?' she pondered. Looking at the number of people in the room, she realised that even if communication should originate from here, it wouldn't be right now. She resolved to come back later.  
  
xxxxxxxxxx  
  
Malcolm was involved in an exhaustive, but thus far, fruitless search up and down the many corridors. He'd located Hydroponics, an area of recreation, several open areas that reminded him of market places in English towns, but no signs of computer terminals or a single generator. He had passed several Altairian people all innocently going about their business, he presumed, but avoided contact with them. Now, as he started into the third corridor in his search, he saw a figure behaving somewhat furtively, opening a door and sliding into the room rapidly. As the door closed, Malcolm moved towards it and put his ear against it. He heard the welcome, and unmistakeable hum of working generators. Drawing his phase pistol from its concealment, he slowly turned the door handle and stepped into the room. As he did, he had time only to register swift movement behind him and a hand touching his neck before darkness engulfed him.  
  
xxxxxxxxxx  
  
John estimated that nearly 2 hours had elapsed since he'd stepped out of the shuttlepod. As his party made their way back to the dome, Voltec stopped when they drew near the craft and extended his hand, 'an unmistakeable gesture of "goodbye, and get off my planet", if ever I saw one', John thought. He chose to ignore the outstretched hand and instead continued on into the dome.  
  
"We'll be out of your hair very soon, Minister. I thought I'd just take a last look at the repairs my people did for you. You know, check that all's well for you before we go."  
  
He watched Voltec closely as he spoke. There could be little doubt that the Minister was very worried about something, and John liked to think that it was their continued presence on Altair that had the other man rattled. A councillor entered the room and spoke quietly into Voltec's ear, too quietly for John to catch it. What he did catch, however, was the look of panic, which swept across Voltec's face.  
  
"Minister, you look ill. Is there something I can do for you?" he enquired.  
  
"Thank you, you've already done more than enough. However, the wind speed is increasing and I'd advise immediate launch for your safe return to your ship."  
  
John sighed; to procrastinate any longer was pointless and if these people were innocent of any wrongdoing, it would also be insufferably rude. He bade Voltec a final farewell and returned to the shuttlepod.  
  
"Any word from Malcolm, Doctor?"  
  
"Not even a peep, Captain. I've been getting quite bored here on my own. Did you find anything of any help?"  
  
"Sadly, no. Voltec is very uncomfortable at our presence here, but maybe that's just guilt at having asked us to help in the first place, and then the accident." John slumped onto one of the benches in despondency. "Guess it's time Malcolm came back and we moved on."  
  
xxxxxxxxxx  
  
T'Pol carefully opened the door into the room where she'd left Commander Tucker and was relieved to find it still devoid of life, except for Trip's recumbent figure. She was about to cross to him when her acute hearing detected the slightest sound from the door she'd just closed. Stepping swiftly behind it, she allowed the intruder to fully enter the room before nerve-pinching his neck. The figure crumpled to the floor as she closed the door and stepped over him. T'Pol made her way across to Trip. She thought at first that he was unconscious, but when she touched him gently on the shoulder, his blue eyes opened.  
  
"Hey, T'Pol, any luck?"  
  
T'Pol noted, with concern, that the Commander was having difficulty in breathing. Placing her hands under his arms, she raised him to a sitting position. He gasped in pain and screwed his eyes shut, clenching his teeth around his bottom lip to stop the scream that was trying to make itself heard.  
  
"Whaddya wanna go throwin' me about for?"  
  
"A more upright position will improve your air intake, Commander, as your breathing is compromised. As to your first question, I regret that I was unable to make contact. I will try again later."  
  
Trip nodded, dejectedly. He wished he didn't hurt so much and feel so deathly weak. For the first time, he noticed the crumpled figure by the door.  
  
"Who's your boyfriend?"  
  
"An Altairian. He followed me in and I rendered him unconscious. If we are to remain here, I must find something with which to restrain him. In the meantime, I will search him for a weapon or communicator."  
  
Crossing to the figure, T'Pol started searching his pockets. Trip heard her give a small, startled "Oh" before she rolled the man onto his back. Sitting back on her heels, she looked across at Trip.  
  
"This is Lieutenant Reed!"  
  
"Ya gotta be kiddin' me! Malcolm, here, dressed like that? Why?"  
  
"There is a simple, logical way to find out," T'Pol said, as she held up the distinctive shape of a Starfleet communicator. Flipping it open and activating it, she almost allowed herself a smile when she heard the voice answering.  
  
"Archer here."  
  
"Captain, it is good to hear you."  
  
"T'Pol! Doctor, she's alive. Is Trip with you, too?"  
  
"Yes, Captain, we are indeed alive. However, the Commander is in need of medical assistance. We are located in the generator room."  
  
"Phlox is suiting up as we speak. Let me speak to Trip."  
  
T'Pol carried the communicator across to Trip. He struggled to put on an air of nonchalance as he spoke.  
  
"Hey, Cap'n, good to year ya. If ya want to try that transporter now, ya'll get no argument from me."  
  
Even saying so little had Trip exhausted. John could hear it in his friend's voice.  
  
"Hang on, buddy, we'll be right with you. T'Pol, let me speak to Malcolm."  
  
"Lieutenant Reed is temporarily unable to respond."  
  
"How come?"  
  
"I was unaware of his identity and rendered him unconscious."  
  
John rolled his eyes. "How long do you expect him to be out?"  
  
"Not long, Captain, perhaps about 15 minutes at most. What are your plans?"  
  
"Sit tight, take care of Trip. We're coming to get you out."  
  
CHAPTER TEN  
  
Once again dressed in their EV suits, but this time accompanied by Dr. Phlox, Captain Archer and the security team walked back to the dome. John led the way to the reception room and almost collided with a very worried Voltec.  
  
"Captain Archer! What are you doing back? I thought you'd left for your ship?"  
  
"A small matter has come up, Minister. Something I need to bring to your attention, in private if you please."  
  
The slight, almost imperceptible forward movement of the security detail backed this up. Voltec's eyes widened in alarm. He knew with certainty that their plans, the abductions, everything had gone awry. Archer and his men practically forced Voltec into the room, firmly closing the door on the startled councillors outside.  
  
"Now, Minister, I'd like to hear your explanation as to why you told me my people were dead, and it had better be good!"  
  
Voltec sighed and collapsed into a chair, putting his head into his hands.  
  
"Captain, I know you must think badly of us, well, of me, but I'm not an evil man. We are desperate people. When Commander Tucker and Sub-Commander T'Pol were so efficient in their repairs, we knew we needed to try to keep them here. The repairs will last for some time, but not indefinitely, and what will happen then? The equipment needs to be constantly maintained."  
  
"So get your own people to do that. Ok, so they weren't up to the repairs, but surely maintenance isn't so hard? Just because your people aren't up to scratch, doesn't give you the right to kidnap mine!" Archer bellowed.  
  
"If only it was that simple, Captain. I wasn't completely honest with you when you asked the cause of that crater out there. Some years ago there was an.accident. We were experimenting with new technology and it went horribly wrong. There was a catastrophic explosion, destroying the dome that had been sited there, and killing everyone inside. In that one awful moment, Altair lost 90% of its engineers, scientists and medical personnel. Those who weren't killed hadn't been involved by the fact that they were too elderly. They died before being able to train new people to take over. For too many years now, we've had to watch as our systems gradually stopped working. Our very existence depended on finding someone who could repair our systems, and once we found him, we knew we couldn't let him leave. And I couldn't allow the Sub-Commander to leave...I had no choice."  
  
Voltec lowered his head into his hands again, avoiding the glare from John's eyes. For John's part, his mind was reeling. Over the past 48 hours he had grieved with his crew, sent false messages to Starfleet, Vulcan High Command, and caused heartache to Mr and Mrs. Tucker! Then he learns that they're ok, well, relatively, and now this man's telling him an entire race's future depends on Trip remaining with them!  
  
"I'm sorry, Voltec," he spoke more gently. "I can see your dilemma, and I don't know what I'd have done in your shoes, but that doesn't make it right. For now, you're under the guard of my men, here, and you will not be allowed to leave this room. Furthermore, if any harm comes to anyone in the landing party, you won't like the consequences. Do I make myself clear?"  
  
xxxxxxxxxx  
  
Malcolm was waking slowly from a deep sleep. He could hear someone calling him, but he didn't want to wake up yet. Besides, his neck hurt, so he obviously needed more rest.  
  
"Lieutenant Reed, open your eyes!"  
  
The fog suddenly cleared from Malcolm's brain as he recognised a voice he thought he'd never hear again. His eyes shot open to see a welcome face.  
  
"Sub-Commander, you're alive!"  
  
T'Pol's eyebrow rose.  
  
"Indeed, Lieutenant, now sit up."  
  
Malcolm struggled onto his knees, rubbing his neck. He looked around him, getting his bearings, and all thoughts of his own aches vanished when he noticed Trip. Hurrying across to kneel beside his friend, he looked into blue, pain-filled eyes.  
  
"Commander?"  
  
"Hey, Malcolm. Enjoy your nap?" Trip was exhausted, huge beads of sweat on his brow and top lip. His normally fair complexion had taken on a flush, and Malcolm exclaimed when he put the back of his hand against the Commander's forehead.  
  
"Sub-Commander, we need to get Dr. Phlox here immediately. He's waiting in the shuttlepod."  
  
"I have already apprised the Captain of Commander Tucker's condition, and they are on their way."  
  
"Why can't anybody call me 'Trip'?" the engineer muttered.  
  
As he spoke, the door opened to admit the landing party. John grimaced as he took in his friend's condition. Phlox spoke soothingly to Trip as he injected a much-welcomed hypospray of analgesia. Trip's eyes glazed over as sleep beckoned.  
  
"See ya back home, Cap'n."  
  
Archer watched grimly as Dr. Phlox ran his scanner over Trip.  
  
"We got here just in time, Captain. The Commander has developed bronchial pneumonia. His fractured ribs would not have allowed him to combat the infection, and he would have been unable to breathe unassisted for much longer. Frankly, he would have perished."  
  
"And now, will he be ok?"  
  
"Let's get him back to the ship, and we'll see, hmm?"  
  
John opened his communicator and spoke to the security men guarding Voltec.  
  
"Take the Minister with you to the shuttlepod. Lieutenant Reed and Sub- Commander T'Pol will join you there. I'm going to transport back to the ship with the doctor and Commander Tucker."  
  
CHAPTER ELEVEN  
  
Trip lay on life support in sickbay. Phlox had thought it wiser to keep him sedated until they had the infection under control. The engineer's injuries had been treated: his ribs had been bound, and the femur was stabilised with an external fixator. Now, it was up to the resilience of the human body and the antibiotics, together with a few of Dr. Phlox's favourite Regulan bloodworms, to do their magic. John had brought Voltec, still under close guard, to sickbay, to view for himself the outcome of his actions.  
  
"Do you see what nearly happened here, Voltec? By keeping him down there, not letting us treat his injuries, you almost killed him!"  
  
"I never meant for this to happen, Captain, you must believe me." Voltec's voice was barely a whisper. He looked at the young man on the biobed with genuine regret. "I just wanted to save my people."  
  
John sighed. He knew Trip had come close to dying, but Phlox felt he would recover. But what of the Altairians? Who was going to give them a fighting chance? He moved across to the intercom.  
  
"Archer to Reed and T'Pol.join me in my ready room in 10 minutes. Minister, with me, if you please."  
  
xxxxxxxxxx  
  
T'Pol had spent several hours in meditation since their return to Enterprise, and although she hadn't had much sleep in the last 48 hours, she felt refreshed. She had made enquiries from the doctor of the Commander's condition, and had felt relief that the news was better. Entering the bridge from the turbolift, she was greeted by the smiling faces of Travis and Hoshi.  
  
"Sub-Commander, on behalf of the crew, we'd just like you to know how relieved we are to have you and Commander Tucker back, alive." Travis spoke up, a little tongue-tied. T'Pol always intimidated him, but his words were sincerely meant.  
  
"Thank you, Ensign, I am relieved also, as I'm sure the Commander will be."  
  
"Steady, T'Pol, your emotions are slipping." John teased as he emerged from the ready room on hearing the turbolift. T'Pol ignored the comment.  
  
"You requested my presence?"  
  
John ushered her into the ready room, where Malcolm had already arrived.  
  
"Under the circumstances, I'm not obliged to offer any assistance to Minister Voltec, but I do want to help the people of Altair. I draw the line at giving them any of my crew, so I'm open to suggestions!"  
  
xxxxxxxxxx  
  
Phlox busied himself in sickbay, feeding the assorted animals in cages, and running a few experiments, but all the while keeping a close eye on his patient. Trip's fever had broken during the night, and the doctor had started to wean him off his sedation and life support. He was now able to breathe unaided, but as yet hadn't shown any signs of waking. Over the last 24 hours Phlox had been pleased at the number of visitors who had called on the Commander. Lieutenant Hess had stopped by to reassure her commanding officer that engineering hadn't blown up in his absence, but 'hurry back soon, sir'. Hoshi had sat quietly whispering into his ear. Malcolm had reminded Trip that he was the 'eternal optimist' and a fighter, so he should stop lying about and 'get on with it'. Even the Sub-Commander had called. Phlox had strained to hear what the young Vulcan, might have said, but she must have been taking lessons from Hoshi, as she did a most un-Vulcan thing and whispered into Trip's ear. Phlox imagined he might have heard her calling him 'Trip', but thought that most unlikely. Naturally, the most frequent visitor had been Captain Archer, reassuring himself that his friend was recovering. On one such visit, Phlox had overheard the Captain telling Trip he'd reassured the Commander's mother that her son was ok.  
  
"I tell you, Trip, telling her you were dead.well, let's just say the second call was so much easier. Anyway, they're in a hurry to hear from you personally, so don't keep them waiting, huh?"  
  
But for now, all the visitors were gone, and Trip felt as if he was slowly rising through deep water, towards the sunlight above him, if he could only break the surface. He could hear mumbling and wished whoever it was would stop. Suddenly he felt himself breaking free from the confines of the lake, and his eyes shot open as he gasped for breath. The mumbling had stopped, and groggily he realised it had been himself. Screwing his eyes shut in pain and at the brightness of the overhead lights, he realised his whereabouts and groaned.  
  
'Sickbay again! Guess I'm gonna get a bed named after me, I'm clockin' up so much time here.'  
  
"Welcome back, Commander. And how do you feel, today?"  
  
Trip winced at the Denobulan's cheery voice. He squinted open one eye and located the doctor standing to his right. Phlox noticed his photophobia and dimmed the lighting.  
  
"How long've I been out, doc?"  
  
"24 hours, Commander, shorter than some of your previous visits. If you're feeling up to some company, the captain asked me to notify him when you awoke."  
  
Trip nodded, still in pain, but so glad to be alive. Phlox crossed to the intercom.  
  
"Phlox to Captain Archer."  
  
"Archer here."  
  
"You will undoubtedly be pleased to hear that my patient is awake."  
  
"Thanks, doc, I'm on my way." John looked around the bridge at the grinning faces of his dedicated crew. Even T'Pol allowed herself a small nod. 'Kinda like a 'Trip' gesture, there, sub-commander' he thought to himself.  
  
"Sub-Commander, would you care to join me? Malcolm, you have the con."  
  
xxxxxxxxxx  
  
"Well, Commander, glad you've decided to join us again. This is getting to be too much of a regular occurrence, winding up in here, flat on your back." John tried to make it a scold, but Trip saw through him.  
  
"Ya know me, Cap'n, just bone idle. Hey T'Pol, ya ok?"  
  
"Thank you, Commander, I am quite well."  
  
"Are we back to formalities? If I recall correctly, down there ya called me 'Trip'."  
  
John's eyebrows rose as he looked at his two senior officers. 'Just what had happened down there?' he thought.  
  
"On the occasion that I did use your.nickname, I believe it's called, I was trying to communicate with you through your pain. It seemed the best way to get your attention."  
  
"Oh, ya sure got ma attention, but sayin' 'Trip' didn't bite ya, now did it?"  
  
"Starfleet protocol dictates that we lead by example, Commander. It would be inappropriate to use informalities in front of the lower ranks."  
  
"But I call ya 'T'Pol'. D'ya object to that?"  
  
"That is my given name. It would be illogical to object to being addressed by my given name. Your given name is not 'Trip', Commander."  
  
John shook his head, relieved, almost, to be able to hear them arguing again, but he could tell that this particular spat might drag on for some time.  
  
"Ok, kids, enough! Doctor, how is your patient?"  
  
Phlox joined them at the bedside.  
  
"Listening to all that arguing, it's hard to compare him with the sickly creature we transported off Altair. I feel confident in declaring that the commander will make a full recovery."  
  
"Ya used that thing on me, again?" Trip queried. John laughed at his friend's expression.  
  
"You're getting to be one of the most frequently-transported crewmembers on board, Trip."  
  
Phlox cleared his throat and continued.  
  
"Commander Tucker has always shown remarkable powers of recuperation. His fractures are healing well but he will have to use a walking aid for some time yet. The femur, although stabilised with this brace, bears all of the body's weight, and I would advise non-weight-bearing for a further week."  
  
"A week? Doc, I've got work to do, I can't go lyin' around for a week!"  
  
"Commander, you are an excellent engineer, and I wouldn't presume to tell you how to do your job. Please extend me the same courtesy." Phlox smiled to take the sting out of the words, because he knew he had the final say, no matter how much Trip might object. "You don't have to remain in sickbay, although I always enjoy our verbal sparring. I am happy to release you to your quarters, providing you get some rest!"  
  
John spoke up. "Don't worry, doctor, he's off the duty roster for 1 week, no arguments." CHAPTER TWELVE  
  
Trip lay on his bunk, restless and fidgety. He knew he wasn't nearly fit enough to be doing anything but rest, the walk from sickbay had confirmed that. Phlox had supplied him with a pair of ancient walking aids to enable him to keep his left foot off the ground. He'd used walking aids once before, when he was fourteen, and had come off his friend's motorbike. His father had nearly finished the job of killing him for being on the open road whilst underage.  
  
By the time he'd reached his quarters, 'and have they moved further away from sickbay?' he was exhausted. John had accompanied him.  
  
"Get some rest, Trip, that's an order. I'll stop by later, bring you a beer."  
  
Trip had eased onto his bunk with a sigh. He made a mental note not to get injured so often, or John'd start thinking he was a liability. Resting on his back, with nothing else to do but think, he pondered the Altairian problem that John had explained. Getting stiffly to his feet, he lurched over to the intercom and hailed the captain.  
  
"Trip, I thought I told you to rest?"  
  
"Yeah, I am, but I was wonderin' what you've decided about Altair?"  
  
"I haven't made my final decision yet. I know we can't just leave it like it is, for several reasons, not least that if we do nothing, they'll just pull the same stunt with the next mug who answers their call."  
  
"Well, I'm not sure I'd call ya a mug, but I might have an idea. D'ya remember Liana an' her dad, Ezral?"  
  
"Yes, what about them?"  
  
"D'ya remember all those holographic people he'd created? If he was willin', maybe he could share his technology with Voltec an' make some engineers an' scientists, just long enough for the Altairians to learn what they need ta survive."  
  
John was impressed with the suggestion. "Trip, that's a great idea, if he goes for it. Maybe I should arrange for you to get knocked on the head more often!"  
  
"Thanks, Cap'n, but I thought ya already had."  
  
xxxxxxxxxx  
  
Ezral and Liana had been assisted by the Enterprise crew to repair their vessel and return home to Cantari. They had been home, now for just over 1 month. Liana often spoke of the chief engineer, of how kind he'd been. Ezral hoped his daughter would forget the handsome human and settle with her own people, but since their return, things hadn't been easy. They had been the only survivors out of a crew of 50, including Liana's mother, and naturally, the relatives of his dead crew were somewhat hostile. He was surprised to receive a summons to the Minister's office, to receive an incoming message from Captain Archer himself.  
  
"Captain, it is a joy to speak with you again. How are you all?"  
  
"We're fine, thanks. And you, and Liana? Are you settling in to life back home again?"  
  
"I'm an explorer, like yourself, Captain. I don't feel comfortable staying in one place for too long. Our enforced stay in our ship has left me with wanderlust. And so much has changed here, since we were last home. Liana hardly knows her former friends. They've moved on without her, and she has grown up so much more than them in the past 20 years.but enough, you didn't call to check on our homecoming, I'm quite sure. How can I help you?"  
  
"Well, I've called to ask a really big favour, and I'll understand perfectly if you feel unable to help. We've met a race of people, the Altairians, who are on a slightly primitive planet with problematic technology. We've done repairs for them, but they don't have engineers and scientists to maintain the equipment. Trip reminded me of you holographic expertise, and I was wondering." John trailed off, unsure of himself and the enormity of what he was asking.  
  
"You would like me to share my knowledge of holograms with these.Altairians? Our technology isn't mine to share. I'll have to discuss it with the First Minister. I'll contact you at the earliest opportunity."  
  
xxxxxxxxxx  
  
John was relaxing over a beer with Trip in his quarters when the call came through from Cantari.  
  
"Captain, my government has discussed your request, and in gratitude to you for your assistance, they have agreed. I thought they'd say no, but actually I think they'll be glad to have us go away, for a little while, to let old wounds heal. It will give everyone a chance to accept what has happened."  
  
"Ya said 'us'. Is Liana goin' too?" Trip queried.  
  
"Commander Tucker, it is good to hear your voice. My daughter sends her greetings. And yes, she will accompany me. We would not wish to be parted at this time, and she is a very fine engineer, if you recall. Between us all, we will spread 'Rocky Road' ice cream throughout the galaxy."  
  
John looked perplexed. Trip merely grinned.  
  
"Tell ya 'bout it, sometime. Ezral, ya both take care, that planet's a mean ol' boy. Gives 'Rocky Road' its original meanin'!"  
  
xxxxxxxxxx  
  
First Minister Voltec and Councillor Trag were seated in John's ready room. He sat across from them, waiting to hear their response. He'd put forward Trip's suggestion and Ezral's willingness to assist them. Now it was up to them. He watched the two men nod to each other, and he let out the breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding.  
  
"We don't deserve this kindness, Captain, but we most gratefully accept your suggestion and this man's help. We have never heard of this 'hologram' technology, but it sounds like it could be the answer to all our problems. Together with the data you've downloaded to our computers, Altair should be safe for the foreseeable future."  
  
xxxxxxxxxx  
  
T'Pol had almost finished her meditation for the evening, when her door chimed, disturbing her. Rising to answer it, she was surprised to see the Commander leaning against the doorframe. He was looking much better, but still had to use the walking aids, much to his disgust.  
  
"Commander?"  
  
"Can I come in, or d'ya want me to loiter out here 'til I fall over?"  
  
T'Pol stepped aside to let him enter. He noted the candles on the floor, and turned to T'Pol, apologetically.  
  
"Bad timin'?"  
  
"I had completed my meditation, thank you. Would you care to sit?"  
  
Trip looked around at the furnishings, and as there was only one chair in the room, he remained standing. T'Pol crossed to the bunk and sat on it, allowing Trip to ease himself carefully into the chair.  
  
"How may I help you, Commander? It is late, and you should still be resting."  
  
Trip ran his finger around the collar of the casual shirt he was wearing, almost as if it was suddenly too tight for him. He cleared his throat.  
  
"Actually, I want ta thank ya."  
  
"For what, Commander?"  
  
"Down on the planet, ya took real good care of me, an' I know I'm a really bad patient. An' I know I'm a pain in your backside, most of the time, but, well, we didn't make too bad a job of getting' along for a while, so.thanks."  
  
T'Pol regarded the squirming human in front of her, and a wickedly un- Vulcan thought briefly entered her head, to make him squirm a bit longer. But their voyage was still in its infancy, and there'd be plenty of other occasions.  
  
"Your thanks is acknowledged, Commander, but it was the only logical thing to do."  
  
END 


End file.
